His Hand (Let Go)
by CaptainBellarkeSwan
Summary: Why does she have to let go when she already had everything? Why not when she had nothing to lose? Why does she have to let him go? 5x20 Fic. Pure angst tiny bits of fluff.
**Pure angst. That's all I have to say.**

 **I know you guys want it as much as I do. My POV on the hand scene in the elevator.**

* * *

There was a time when all she had was her yellow Bug and her red jacket armor. There was a time when she just had herself and needed no one else. That was the time when trusting someone was unknown to her. She had to protect herself, to keep herself alive, to keep her armor on.

They said she shouldn't let go of it.

Now she has everything. Her family. Her son. Her friends. Her love. Now she's starting to trust again, starting to heal piece by piece.

Why does she have to let go when she already had everything?

Why not when she had nothing to lose?

Why does she have to let go?

The clank of the metal grills is a reminder of his words. Her eyes roams his face. His beautiful face, tears rolling down his cheeks, and her heart churns as her stomach drops. It's another reminder of what is to come.

 _You should have let me go._

She doesn't want to.

But the blue of his eyes, the tears on his cheeks, the small smile on his lips, the tremble in his voice. Everything about him tells her otherwise.

So she does.

But when the elevator starts moving, her first response is to hold on. She isn't ready. She isn't ready for another heartbreak. She isn't ready to lose him. Yet that won't stop anything. It won't stop the elevator from moving. It won't stop Hades from trapping them completely. It won't stop losing him.

She does it anyway.

Her hand finds his bigger one. The familiarity of his touch. The warmth of his hand. The roughness of his fingers.

It just makes it even harder to let go.

* * *

The first time was at the foot of the beanstalk. He was nothing but a flirtatious bastard that would help her get back to her son. Oh, she wasn't going to lie. The man was easy on the eyes, but no one is ever that easy in reality. So his so-called charms wouldn't affect her.

She knew that taking her hand was not necessary. All he had to do was put the damn cuff on anyway. The pat on her hand after he put the cuff one spoke of nothing but flirting and challenging. When their hands connected, she had to look away. Obviously, this man wanted something and he was being an asshole just to have it. Or he really was just an asshole.

She didn't understand.

* * *

The whole trip on their way up she was certain he was a nosy bastard who only cared for himself and flirts with everyone (save for that conversation she didn't really want to think about). So it really didn't make sense when he insisted to care for the wound. It was just a wound on her hand, after all. It wasn't as if she would die. And if she did, shouldn't he see it as an opportunity?

Something inside her told her that it was because he wasn't really an asshole, that maybe he was someone who had no choice but to save himself from the dangers of the world. Very much like she did before Storybrooke happened. She could already feel her armor slipping on more firmly and tried to ignore that a pirate just wasted his rum on her wound.

She didn't want to look at his face and see something because she's afraid. She's afraid of what she would see. Instead, she decided to at his hand as he tend to her wound. The cold metal of his hook was around her wrist as he carefully wrapped his scarf around her hand. And somehow she couldn't seem to look away from his skillful hand as it brushed against hers every one in a while. It shouldn't affect her, but it did. The feather-like touches sending shivers down her spine, and she's trying so hard not to think about it.

After he cut the scarf, he wrapped his good hand around hers as he fixed the knot. And she convinced herself it was just her body reacting to the alarms inside her head, and not because he simply touched her sincerely.

Damn him.

And when she handcuffed him, she told herself it was entirely because he was a villain and she needed to go back to Storybrooke safely. Not because she was afraid that this man read her like a book.

* * *

"Just who are you, Swan?"

Somehow the question made the hairs on her arms stand. Maybe it was because the question held something more than what it was supposed to mean.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" she teased as she handed him his rum back.

"Perhaps I would." he said.

And she wasn't sure if it was his answer that told her more or the fact that he didn't even try to grab her hand and flirt like he used to. Their fingers brushed and she didn't want to admit it but her hand tingled for a few seconds longer after he left.

Perhaps it was a bit of both.

* * *

"It was what the kiss exposed."

It was bound to happen. She knew. Even if she denied it so many times, she knew at the back of her head. His words brought her back to their kiss.

She wasn't thinking straight. She could only bring back the feelings inside her at that time. She was confused. So confused. What did he want? He was on the other side. Then he decided to help them and really had nothing to receive in return. And she just found out he had saved David. She didn't understand.

She didn't understand him from the very beginning, but everything that had happened only made things worse. His successful attempt at flirting only made it easier to admit to herself that he was slowly growing on her. Next thing she knew she was crashing her lips to his in a searing kiss because for once, she was tired of hiding. And it was as if she gave everything she had in that kiss, all the frustrations, all the worries, all the fears she had for everything that was happening.

She felt his hand grazing against the back of her head, then it was gone. And she kissed him even harder because she wanted to feel it. she wanted him to bury his hand into her hair and press her closer to him.

Then she realized what was happening and remembered that she wasn't in Neverland for anything else but Henry. And before she could even think, she pulled away, her breathing shallow as she regained her senses.

He didn't know, but she watched as he brought his hand to his lips as if he didn't believe what just happened.

She didn't either.

* * *

Maybe a small part of her actually wished she was holding his hand instead when they were trying to call Cora from the Underworld.

* * *

And maybe a small part of her was a bit smug because of the look he was giving her after changing into the clothes they stole from the nearby village. She must admit though wearing Enchanted Forest clothing made her feel more like a Disney character. But apparently it had a different on Hook. That little pause told her everything, and maybe it made her a heart spike for a second.

Then he stepped closer and his hands reached for the hood of her cloak. She felt body reacting as he slowly pulled the hood over her head, his eyes kind and shining (adoringly). She felt his fingers as he fixed her hair.

A very, very small part of her wanted him to touch her.

Or that was what she told herself back then.

* * *

He was right.

Past Hook was a different man.

He was drunk, yes, but there was something different about him. His eyes harder, colder, sadder. His lips spilled of nothing but innuendos. His touch spoke of nothing but want.

It felt different, but it also felt the same. Perhaps it was also the rum that she drank a few times with him to numb the feeling brewing inside her. (She wouldn't admit it, but she wanted the man.)

* * *

She never thought she'd actually thank Gold, even in her mind.

They walked up the steps of the castle, making sure she didn't step on the red dress she was wearing. She had always wanted be a princess. All the kids did. At least wearing the dress made her feel like one. (And it had nothing to do with the man beside her)

It was also a shock that Hook knew how to dance. He never really seemed like the type that dances. Apparently, he did, and he was right when he said that she only had to choose a partner who knew what he was doing. He definitely did. In that moment right there, she almost felt like a true princess.

Their hands would touch every beat as they twirled around the dance floor. His hand would graze against her hand. his hand would bring her hands over her head as she twirled to the beat of the sound. His hand would guide her towards he next step.

His hands would stay on the small of her back. Warm and steady. Careful and caring.

She was going to admit it wasn't an entirely bad feeling.

* * *

"You traded your ship for me?"

"Aye."

That was the last straw. The man had done a lot of things. He had helped them even though he was siding with Cora. He went back for them even though he already had the magic bean. He offered his ship to save Henry in Neverland even though he could have taken his revenge. He went with her into the portal even when he knew they wouldn't know where they were heading.

And he traded his ship just to get back to her and save her from herself.

For the first time in a long time, she was being honest to herself. She was starting to fall in love with him. (Maybe she already was

It scared her to death, but she wasn't going to deny it either. The feeling filled her heart with something she cannot describe. The feel of his hand cupping her head was enough to break her from her thoughts and just feel him. She wanted him. She wanted to feel more of his touch. She felt his hand pressed her closer and she almost sighed in relief. When they pulled away for air, he leaned his forehead against hers, his calloused fingers touching her chin lightly.

Yes, Emma Swan was in love.

* * *

She was freezing to death.

So when her father gave her to Killian, she felt relief as he wrapped his arms around her, enveloping her with his warmth and smell. A shaky sigh escaped her lips when his warm hand wrapped around hers.

When they got back to the loft, everyone was quick to give her tons of blanket and she smiled a little at the sight of Hook bringing out the heater. He stayed by her side as they all talked. Emma couldn't really hear what they were talking about, only bits and pieces, because all she could feel was how comforting he was.

It didn't help that his hand was drawing small circles on her shoulder as he pressed soft kisses on her hair.

It wasn't long before she drifted off in his arms, feeling safe and loved.

* * *

She thought that the first date wouldn't be that special anymore since they've been through a lot. So much more than a regular couple that took a while to admit their feelings.

She was wrong, of course. It was every bit of magical.

And he had both of his hands. The innuendo wasn't lost on her when he replied to David's retort. Honestly, she didn't mind that either.

From the table, she reached for his hand, rather his hands. Her fingers tangled with his as she sought for roughness and the warmth of his hands. That night when he was walking her, it felt as if Storybrooke wasn't in danger, as if the Snow Queen didn't exist.

But in that moment, it didn't matter because his hands were wrapped around her waist as he pressed his lips against hers.

* * *

This man really couldn't be her Killian.

Goats milk?

Yet she also knew it was him. Just another version of him and she still couldn't stop herself from connecting with him. And when she held his hand, his calloused hand, it had felt the same. The same size, the same warmth, the same roughness.

He joked about being jealous of himself, his real self, her Killian.

A smile crept to her lips.

She didn't hesitate to trust him anyway.

* * *

She didn't know what had gotten into her when she jumped on top of him, tumbling them over her bed.

Of course, she did. He died. He died in front of her and even though it was not real, it hurt. It hurt so much and she realized that she loved him too much to let him go just like that. She loved him so much.

The look he was giving her told her that he was waiting, that he was always ready to hear three words.

She was just afraid of saying it like she always did.

In the end, she wasn't able to say the words, but she held onto his hand so tight. The familiarity of his hand easing her heart into steady beats of nothing but love for him.

* * *

The tight grip on her wrist brought her back to the time when she finally admitted to him and to herself that she didn't want to lose him.

Her first declaration of love.

She didn't say the words, but she knew that he understood. She knew that he already knew that anyway.

But tonight was different. So different from the peaceful empty streets of the main street. Tonight it was her parents, Regina, Robin, Killian, and the darkness.

"Don't do this, Swan." his voice cracked as panic filled his face.

She really didn't have a choice. She remembered the words of Snow.

 _Let's take the hard path._

This. This was the hard path, the right thing to do. She didn't think twice and stepped forward, facing the darkness. Regina had enough of the darkness, after all.

She didn't really realize the weight of what she was about to do until his hand wrapped around her wrist, pulling her back to face his surprised face. Then it all crashed down on her.

And god, she loved him. So much.

"I love you."

Finally.

* * *

"Swan!"

His voice cracked through the darkness. Then she realized what she was doing. With all her might and with the help of his voice, she pulled herself out of the darkness and released the redhead's heart.

His hand slipped into hers. It felt like ages since she last held his hand. And she realized that she was safe. Maybe she had a chance to fight the darkness inside her after all.

As they made their way to Camelot, she realized the voices stopped as long as she focused on the feeling of his hand wrapped around hers.

* * *

He was right. All she had to do was trust him.

She did.

And now the voice was gone. Now she finally felt peace in her heart. Now they were finally alone.

Their fingers brushed as he handed her the Middlemist flower, and her heart skipped a bit. God, what was this man doing to her? It felt like her heart was going to burst. She leaned forward and captured his lips in a slow burning kiss. Tingles went up her body as he deepened the kiss and wrapped his hand around her waist.

For a moment, it was as if she wasn't the Dark One.

* * *

But who was she kidding?

The darkness was still inside her.

She was still the Dark One.

She was bad luck. Or maybe it was just her fault.

He dropped to the ground, the gash on his neck bleeding bright red. And she couldn't feel her body. It felt like she was floating as she knelt beside him, clutching his hand tight. No. No, he had to hold on.

People were talking around her, telling her not to do it, telling her not to save the love of her life, telling her to let go.

No, she wouldn't. She couldn't.

When they were finally alone in the field, tears were streaming down her face. Right then and there she could feel her heart breaking piece by piece. This wasn't supposed to happen. They were supposed to be happy. They were supposed to have a future in their new house. They were supposed to have a family.

She held onto his hand so tight because she wouldn't let go

* * *

He was a Dark One.

She was a Dark One.

She was able to break through his anger and bring her Killian back. But when his hand crushed their bodies together in a hot kiss, she knew he was different. She could feel it as his hand pinned her to his body.

* * *

No.

No!

He wasn't going to die, she told herself.

But the sword sticking out of his guts, the shouts of pain tumbling from his lips, the silent tears brimming his eyes, the pain crawling to his face. She knew it was impossible but she was hoping. She was hoping because she didn't want to let go. She wasn't going to.

He rested his forehead against hers and his fingers raised to cup her cheek, drawing small circles so, so slowly.

Until he stopped.

Until his body went limp and he grew heavy in her arms.

Until his body fell on the floor and all she could do was clutch onto his hand and shout with all her might.

He was dead.

* * *

The elevator starts to move, and her heart hammers in her chest. She knew what's happening, and even though she already said goodbye, her heart really couldn't. Because, god, she loved him so much that it felt like her heart would burst.

She holds onto his hand as the elevator slowly rises. Her body feels numb and her ears are pounding together with the erratic beating of her heart. All she can feel is the warmth of his hand, reminding her that he is still there.

God, they were so close. So close to the future that they have planned and talked about.

Why do they have to fail?

He presses a kiss on her hand, and her heart just breaks because the gentle kiss is a message of his love, of his never-ending love for her.

Why does he have to stay?

The elevator rises more until his arms were stretched above him and she felt her heart skip a beat. This is it. The last stretch. She can feel her desperation as he rises on his toes, but then the elevator never stops. It never stops and their hands separate until only their fingers are touching. He fumbles for her hand, tries to reach for her, grabbing whatever he could.

But he couldn't.

She couldn't.

Why does she have to let go now?

* * *

 **My heart just broke in that scene. The kiss was good, of course, but the hand scene was the one that got me.**

 **Did you guys see Adam's tweet on the script of this scene? It didn't have the hand scene. If it was an improvisation by Colin and Jen, WE SHALL ALL DIE IN FEELS! AYE?**


End file.
